Stained Glass
by lexie2
Summary: A storm. A broken window. And shattered dreams.  One-shot entry for NS Challenge #8- Pic Challenge: PG Stories- March '10  Lex/Chlex


**TITLE:** STAINED GLASS

**CHALLENGE: **Naughty Seduction Fanfic Challenge #8 March 2010- Pic Challenge

**RATING:** PG-13

**SUMMARY:** A storm. A broken window. And shattered dreams.

Multicoloured shards lie scattered at my feet as the unexpected storm rages with unrestrained violence. Coloured fragments of a dream lying there helpless, scarred and

alone. The wind and the rain, which come through the void that is now what used to be the stained-glass window in whose light I remember you standing, are lashing against

my face. My soaked dress shirt has started to plaster to my skin, but I do not feel cold as I close my eyes and assemble the broken pieces in my mind again.

It is suddenly warm and sunny. Gone is the sound of the roaring wind and, in its place, I can hear your quickened breathing and your nervous chuckle as you try to convince me

and yourself that everything will be fine, that I will be able to protect you from the man to whom I have always been nothing but a disgrace. I see your smile, luminous like the

light and the wonder the stained-glass window used to catch and cast whenever you were around, and believe once again I can be someone you could be proud of, someone

you might even learn to love.

I open my eyes and see the physical culprit of this destruction fight its way through the splintered glass that has yet to fall- the branch of an old tree, which advances and

retreats like the epée I have not wielded since the day I split into two and my evil half almost killed you at the fertiliser plant. It has ripped through the splendour of this

rainbow in glass- the only thing left standing of a dream I once had. I look at it accusingly- my fists clenched in impotence- when it launches forward aiming at my

chest as if it were challenging me to a duel, as if it were saying 'Come on. Prove your worth. Only cowards are incapable of facing what they have brought upon themselves.'

I kneel down and start collecting the shattered glass, oblivious to the way the smallest shards pierce my hands and bury in my skin. I notice the little crimson rivulets that run

through my fingers and across my palms and pay no heed to the pain. I clench my fist tighter wishing that shattered beauty- which now lies unrhyming and dark as the night-

could mingle with my blood and flow through my veins to recapture the way you made me feel while standing together in the light cast by the stained-glass window of my

study.

I raise my eyes and glare at the branch as it fences stubbornly against the splintered glass still hanging from the window frame. I scramble to my feet, grab the poker and

trudge against the hampering wind to reach the destroyer. I swing the tool like an axe and slam it down over and over again severing the offending arm from the immovable

body it is attached to. My heaving chest fights for oxygen once the deed is accomplished; however, there is no satisfaction in the amputation for, delicate and

fragile, the remains of the pane could not last.

With a silent howl I hurl the poker across the room and smash the glass of the cabinet which holds some of my antiques collection greatest treasures. I am sure a couple of

pieces have been damaged in the process and yet I do not care. Even though they are unique and obscenely expensive when compared to this stained glass I cannot stop

looking at with blurry eyes, it is what this window stood for that I will never be able to replace.

I fall on my knees amidst the scattered shards, focusing my gaze on the biggest fragments, calling out to the little boy whose voice I have not heard for quite some time

now. He would be able to pick up the now opaque remnants and make them shine again. The minutes tick away and the storm grows more ferocious, the old volumes you once

leafed through as you sat waiting for my arrival in my den fly off the shelves sucked by the whirlwind that is sweeping across the room. I strain my ears to hear the red-haired

boy's voice, close my bloodshot eyes to obliterate the chaos around me and see your deep emerald pools holding my gaze, granting me your trust, showing your faith in me.

I remember looking into your green orbs and being washed over by a soothing calm. I remember seeing another pair of eyes reflected in their depths calling out to the little

boy trapped in the body of a jaded twenty-four-year-old. Getting lost in your eyes I yearned to find the three-year-old who used to sit on his mother's lap with coloured

crayons clutched tightly in his hand, colours amazingly bright glowing like a prism light.

Standing with you as the sun filtered through the stained glass, painting us in hues of purple and gold, I dreamt I was holding those crayons again, planning my masterpiece

with childish excitement. The evening sunset blazed like a red-hot flame enhancing the radiant colours I saw reflected on your face. Unwilling to drop my gaze- as if I were in a

mesmerised daze- I stared at the splendid hues and basked in your warmth. Suddenly, I feel a pair of hands grabbing my arms and hear the unwelcomed voice of

one of my security detail shouting at me and urging me to vacate the room and seek shelter. Still sitting despondently on the plank wood floor, I stare at the multicoloured

glass scattered around me. I feel my heart ache with a dull pain. Sorrow overtakes me as I glance over these pieces of a shattered dream, pieces that were once held as one. And I

see your beautiful eyes, which once shone with warmth in my presence, filled with bitter animosity and mistrust when you look at me now.

I shoot a final glance at the void where our stained-glass window used to be and wonder where the first stone that ripped through it came from, the rock that ripped through the

splendour of our rainbow in glass.

**THE END**


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